Matchstick Flames
by RomillyLane
Summary: He was either dead or he thought she was; he would have never left her alone otherwise. Rachel never gave up the hope of finding him alive, but in order to survive the new world, they had to adapt. Would their relationship survive the world or would they fall victim to its complexities like so many others?
1. Chapter 1

_Author Note: This story has been edited for my own sanity.  
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or the characters from the show._

* * *

All had been relatively quiet. The only sound came from the movements as they packed up camp. Staying in any one place for too long was dangerous, and they had been in this location for three days. It was time to move on. Suddenly, puncturing the quiet was the pulsating sound of an alarm. It was only just audible. A year ago, they probably wouldn't even have heard it from their distance, but now there was not much else to drown out its sound. It was startling and unexpected. It had been months since they had heard such a loud, offending noise. Whoever, or whatever, had set it off was not doing themselves any favors. One of the many things that they had learned over the last year was that the corpses always gravitated toward noise.

Rachel turned her head in the direct of the alarm, peering through the trees as though she would be able to identify its source. Even the slightest of noises caused her head to turn, so this sudden explosion of sound her insides turned to ice. It was momentarily unsettling, but after assessing the likely distance she turned back to the supplies that she had been stuffing into a backpack. A young girl stood nearby, distracted from her task.

"What do you suppose is making that noise?" Sarah asked, her eyes cautiously sweeping the yard.

"Could be any number of things, really," Rachel replied, glancing toward their other companion, Jesse, to gage his reaction to the newest development. He was busy rolling up the tent that they all shared. "It might be a signal for bad weather conditions. It might also be from a prison. They have alarms like that, I think. It might even be a school. I don't know."

"Well, whatever it is, it'd probably be best to avoid it," Jesse said, sliding the stakes into the pouch. "It'll be swarming with the dead in no time." Sarah gave an involuntary shudder and he changed the subject, directing his next question at Rachel. "The house is stripped of everything we can use, right?"

Nodding, Rachel affirmed that every useful item had been scavenged.

As a means for survival, the three of them – Rachel, Jesse, and Sarah – had been leading a nomadic existence. It wasn't easy and they struggled more often than not, but it had worked in their favor so far. The trio had been drawn together early on, during the chaos that ensued when the dead first began to walk. Rachel had been on her way out of town, hoping to connect with her husband or some family so that she did not have to be alone, when she met Jesse Buchanan. Lost in thought about what she had witnessed earlier in the day, she nearly ran him over with her car. He seemed hardly fazed by the near death experience and looked completely lost and frazzled. Rachel recognized him as the manager of the supermarket that she frequented and pulled over to offer him a ride. About a week later, as they traveled toward a rumored safe haven, they added Sarah Lowery to their ranks. Jesse found the teenager hiding in a house that they had gone into for supplies. Sarah had not left the house since the uprising and her mother failed to return home from work. Rachel and Jesse talked her into joining them and they had been looking out for one another ever since.

"You all packed up, Sarah?" Rachel asked, double-checking the security of all the items that they were taking with them. The girl nodded as she hoisted the pack onto her back, still watching the fence line for any unwanted activity. "Jesse, you ready?"

"As ready as I ever am," Jesse replied. His eyes followed a similar route as Sarah's, making sure they were clear enough to leave. He unlatched the gate and they began the hike toward a cluster of houses that had been scouted the day before.

The alarm provided a distant soundtrack as they trekked along the side of the road, mostly in silence. If there wasn't anything pressing to talk about, they kept the chatter to a minimum when they traveled. It was better to keep an ear to ground in case they encountered the dead, or even other survivors. Rachel took the lead as they walked while Jesse brought up the rear, calling out directions as needed.

With nothing better to do but walk and watch for the dead ones, Rachel's mind often wandered. She reflected on her life, both past and present; many of the same thoughts constantly clouded her mind. How had she managed to survive while so many others died? Her own father would have counted her as dead after the first onslaught of walkers she dealt with. He was always playful when he teased her, but Rachel knew the truth: her father thought she was weak. She lived into that role – the brains, not the brawn – her siblings were much better suited for the latter. Yet here she was, surviving in a world that depended on strength of both her mind and her body. Rachel knew that she had her husband to thank for some of it. He was the outdoorsy type, always off wandering in the woods and up to his elbows in dirt. All his carrying on about hunting, camping, and wilderness survival had seemed incessant and silly at times, but at least some of it had been redundant enough to stick with her.

Rachel gave her head a slight shake and refocused on being vigilant of her surroundings. She did not need her mind to travel down that rabbit hole right now – not when they were exposed and vulnerable on the road. Those memories were best saved for a time when the others weren't around to witness the wide range of emotions that pulled on every fiber of her being when she thought of her husband. Rachel inhaled deeply, trying to redirect her mind. It was something she forced herself to do when her thoughts turned dark against him.

Jesse called out in a hushed tone. "Take a right down the next road."

Glancing over her shoulder, Rachel gave him a nod. It was only then that she noticed the alarm had stopped. How long had it been? Not that it mattered much; the silence was welcomed. Anything out of the ordinary always put her on edge – ordinary being a relative term these days. Rachel looked down at her watch. They had been walking for almost a half-hour and according to Jesse, they should be coming up on the houses soon.

They had learned early on that looks could be deceiving. A house that looked uninhabited could very easily be harboring a few of the dead ones inside. With weapons at the ready, they checked the perimeter around the house and garage. All was clear on the outside.

"Hey, check it out," Jesse called, beckoning them to join him at the garage window he was standing near. There was a car inside. His two companions grinned at him. This was an excellent find and would provide them some relief from carrying their heavy bags. They only prayed that it had a sufficient amount of gas to make it worth their time.

After walking through the house to be certain that it was empty, they set to work, gathering up items that would be most useful. Just like in every house that they scavenged, Rachel wondered what had happened to its occupants. It wasn't often that they came to house that looked relatively untouched and with the car still parked in the garage. The owners must have been on vacation when the world turned; it was the only logical explanation that she could come up with.

Sarah unearthed a set of car keys in one of the kitchen drawers, likely the spares. She took them out to Jesse who was collecting items from the garage. Rachel was going through the closets for any suitable clothes when she heard the car start up. It was such a joyous sound to behold. When they had picked through the entire house, they packed up the car as efficiently as possible.

"Three quarters of a tank," Jesse told them with a smile. "I also found a rifle with ammunition."

"I put the pistol that I found under the front seat," Rachel added. "The extra bullets are in the glove box."

"Good," Jesse replied. "So, if we're going to check out other houses, I think we should walk. There's no sense in wasting the gas we got."

The other two agreed and they spent the rest of the afternoon going from house to house, scrounging up supplies. Many of the houses that they went into were more picked over than the first, but they were able to find some useful items. When they were in their forth house, another sound suddenly cut through the silence. It sounded a lot like a motorcycle. Rachel glanced up from the cupboard she was rummaging through and raised a brow at Jesse. Reading her expression, he tossed her the rifle as she stood.

Sprinting toward the front of the house, Rachel threw herself at one of the windows that overlooked the front yard. Her heart raced as she waited, the engine growing louder as it neared. She prayed that the biker wouldn't stop somewhere nearby. The last thing that they wanted was trouble from others. The motorcycle and its two riders roared down the street without so much as a turn of their heads.

It took Rachel a moment after it passed to realize that she had stopped breathing. Her nose was pressed against the window as she watched the bike tear down the road with wide, disbelieving eyes. She drew in a quick gulp of air to restart herself. Her heart hummed violently against her chest. All immediate dangers had passed them by, but still she stood there, stunned and uncertain of what she had seen. She knew that motorcycle – at least, she thought she did. Neither of the people riding it looked like its owner. The driver looked a lot like…

No – no, it couldn't be. Rachel gave herself a little shake, trying to collect herself. She pulled away from the window and stepped out onto the porch for some air. Feeling slightly more composed in the cool, mid-afternoon breeze, she began to wonder if her mind was playing tricks on her. It was the first sign of other survivors that they had seen in weeks. Rachel had been holding onto a tiny spark of hope for so long, waiting for their luck to turn. She wanted more than anything to find her husband, but even finding Sarah's mom alive or one of Jesse's relatives would be enough at this point. Maybe it was this desperation to find just an ounce of hope in the midst of chaos that made her think she knew that bike and its rider.

Rachel ran a hand through her hair as she continued to stare down the empty road. Even the sound from the motorcycle's engine had died away. With the whole thing over and out of sight, it seemed less likely to be what she thought. She took another deep breath and walked back into the house, her heart still drumming in an usual way.

"Is it gone?" Jesse asked. His eyes crinkled as he took note of the change in her demeanor.

Rachel nodded, shouldering the rifle. She moved toward her bag to finish organizing the new items, unable to further elaborate on what she saw – not that there was much to tell.

"Damn thing was loud too," Jesse added, shaking his head. "We should probably head back to the car soon. I think we've gathered all that will be useful. We might as well hit a couple more houses before settling in for the night somewhere."

There was a groan from the other room and then Sarah appeared in the doorway, looking mutinous. "Can't we just stay at that first house tonight? It's going to be dark soon."

Jesse shook his head, dismissing the teenager's concern. "I don't think it's the best place for us, Sarah. Let's head up the road and see what we can find now that we've got a vehicle. We can always circle back if needed."

"I've got a feeling we'll find some place good and safe tonight," Rachel reassured her with a smile. Sarah did not look convinced as she slipped out of the room. Jesse shot her a curious look and she shrugged. "That motorcycle had to be going somewhere, didn't it?"

"What did you see out there?" he asked, not letting her off the hook that easily. "You look a little shaken after."

Pursing her lips, Rachel shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know."

By the time they walked back to the car, the sun was beginning to set. Rachel's mind continued to reel with the image of that motorcycle. All the while they searched houses, she had picked it apart in her mind, but she was not able to decide if what she saw was real or not. It was torture to have such uncertainty consume her.

"We're going to need to stop soon," Jesse said, glancing at Rachel in rearview mirror as they continued in the direction the motorcycle had headed.

"Just a little bit longer," Rachel replied, looking out a strip of shops that lined the road. "You said we could go back if we didn't find anything."

They continued for a few more miles. Rachel noticed a sign that read, _West Central Prison – 1 mile. _Jesse must have noticed it too, because he was looking at her again in the mirror with eyebrows raised.

"A prison!" Sarah said shrilly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"It's worth a look," Jesse breathed, shaking his head a little. He also felt a little uncertain about the idea of what could be lurking in a prison.

Up ahead was a break in the trees. Rachel poked her head between the front seats to get a better look as they cleared the tree line. There was a tall fence, laced with loops of barbed wire at the top and a watch tower at the gate. Beyond the fence loomed the silhouette of the prison. Sweeping the length of the fence, the familiar shape of the dead was noticeable in the moonlight, tottering aimlessly in the grass.

"Look!" Sarah shouted, pointing straight ahead. The car's headlights shone on two figures standing inside the gate. They weren't moving and one had a gun at the ready, so they couldn't be reanimated dead.

As the car neared the gate, they got a better look at the two men in front of them. By his choice of clothes, one man appeared to be a prison inmate; the other, a civilian. Rachel felt a chill roll up her spine as the car came to a stop and Jesse threw it in park. He ordered Sarah to stay in the car while he and Rachel went to negotiate with men. The sound of the car was drawing the lurking dead toward it, so they had to be extra careful. Both of them exited the car with their hands in the air, but had their knives accessible if necessary. The younger of the two men, not the inmate, pointed the rifle at each of them as they neared.

"Don't come any closer," he called out.

"We ain't looking for trouble," Jesse replied, hands still up. "We just need a place to camp for a night or two. We don't need supplies. We got our own."

While the two men consulted with one another, Rachel scanned the area, keeping an eye on the corpses that were closing in. She readied herself to lunge for her knife if needed.

"Just get back in your car and get out of here," the unarmed man yelled. "This place belongs to us."

"You don't take house guests?" Rachel shot back, appalled by their lack of compassion. Her eyes widened as one of the corpses was inches from Jesse. There was a shriek from the direction of the car, which redirected Jesse's attention just in time to take down the attacker.

Now wielding her knife, Rachel fended off the dead one at a time by driving her knife into their skulls.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Sarah had abandoned the car to help them. Rachel cursed and worked her way back toward the girl. She could hear Sarah screaming at the two men to help them. It was obvious the teen was at her breaking point from terror and exhaustion. Sarah wasn't going to last very long in her hysteria. Rachel had to do something to make these men see reason. Putting down one more dead body in her path, she noticed a break in the wave. Rachel threw herself against the fence.

"Did a motorcycle come this way?" she asked frantically, throwing looks over her shoulder to be sure nothing was creeping up on her. The two men shared a glance that led her to believe she was on to something, but neither of them responded. Rachel glared at them for a half a second longer, furious to think that they couldn't be bothered to help. "Look, I saw one earlier today, headed in this direction. Did it come here? Does it belong to one of your people?"

When they still remained silent, Rachel shook the fence in frustration, trying her hardest not to burst into tears. She could tell they were holding back. Gritting her teeth, she forced one more question. It seemed like such a shot in the dark, but they were desperate, and what if she had seen him this afternoon?

"Is Daryl Dixon in there?"

The gunman's dropped his hold on the rifle momentarily. The inmate's eyes widened.

"Well?" she demanded and then stole another glance over her shoulder. Jesse and Sarah were still engaged with the dead on the other side of the car.

"What's it to you, lady?" the gunman asked, taking a few steps forward to get a better look at her.

Rachel blinked, stunned by his response. Did this mean that Daryl was inside the prison? Was it Merle's motorcycle that she had seen? She gripped the chain link; her legs were suddenly unable to support the rest of her body. Swallowing the rush of emotion, she replied loudly,

"I'm his wife."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sarah! Jesse!" Rachel screamed as she whirled around; the two men had moved to let them inside the fence. Finding her legs, she moved shakily around the car to help her companions. There would be time to think about Daryl later. She needed to keep a level head if they were all going to make it inside alive.

She yelled again for them to retreat. Sarah complied almost immediately and was at Rachel's side, breathing heavily from the exertion. Jesse hung back, shouting for them to just get inside. His distraction cost him and a dead one grabbed hold of his arm and bit down. Jesse cried out in anguish. Sarah shrieked and lunged forward, but Rachel caught her around the waist. A few gun shots rang out and bodies fell. It took all the strength she had left to pull the hysterical teenager through the narrow opening that the men allowed.

Now on the side of safety, Sarah threw herself back against the fence and watched as Jesse was swarmed. She screamed for him, beating her fists angrily into the chain link. Rachel turned away, unable to watch him be torn to pieces. It was enough to hear his screams slowly fade into silence; the sounds of the dead feasting turned her stomach. She let the younger girl's emotion run their course; it would be better for her in the long run. Suppressing the intense urge to vomit, Rachel looked over at the two men that watched them.

"Throw your weapons over here," the young man with the gun said after a few minutes. He motioned to the ground near him.

Rachel stared at him for a moment with a defiant look in her eye, but then she remembered why they had been allowed inside – Daryl. She surrendered her knife, praying that it wasn't a foolish decision. Sarah did not readily comply, so Rachel pulled her knife from its holder and threw it at the man's feet. She looked between the two men, waiting for the next instruction.

"That's it?" he asked, looking skeptical. His companion bent over to collect the knives.

"Guns are in the car with a few other knives and things. Everything we got is in the car," Rachel admitted, motioning toward their abandoned vehicle. Her emotions, grief and anger, fueled her in the moment. "Look, it's like we said before, we aren't here to cause trouble. We are just looking for a place to stay."

"You said you know Daryl," the gunman reminded her, looking slightly confused.

Her throat suddenly felt dry. She swallowed hard and croaked, "I told you, I'm his wife."

"Daryl's never mentioned being married," he replied, studying them from behind the barrel of his gun. He had yet to put it down.

Rachel's eyebrows rose slightly. The comment stung a little, but she quickly brushed it aside. "I'm sure he has his reasons. Why'd you let us in then? You could have just let us all die out there."

"We're careful, not cruel," he explained and then frowned. "Look, I am sorry about your friend. It shouldn't have happened like that."

He seemed genuine in his sentiment so Rachel nodded solemnly and then said, "I want to see Daryl."

The two men quietly consulted with one another. After a quick conversation, the gun was handed over to the inmate.

"Okay, wait here. I'm going to go get him. Oscar will wait here with you, so don't try anything stupid."

Nodding once more, Rachel understood their precautions, but did they really think she would jeopardize an opportunity to be reunited with her husband. She took hold of Sarah and guided her away from the scene beyond the fence. The teen crumpled into a heap on the ground. Rachel sat with her, watching the young man sprint up the path toward the building's entrance. After a few seconds, a revelation of what was about to take place walloped Rachel in her core. In maybe five minutes time, she would be reunited with Daryl.

Rachel had imagined the moment of their reunion countless times over the past year. The reality of it, of course, was not meeting her expectations. She was surprised by how nervous she felt. A year was a long time to away from someone, not knowing where they are or who they are with. In the beginning, Rachel was very certain that either Daryl was dead or that he thought she was. He never would have abandoned her so easily. But as time went on, doubts began to wear on her certainty and her imagination took hold, creating hundreds of scenarios about what happened on the day their town was overrun and where Daryl had ended up. The urge to vomit kicked up inside her again. The anticipation was overwhelming.

She pulled Sarah closer to her, more for her own comfort than for the girl's. The teen was still shaking, but her tears had ebbed away. Rachel felt her heart begin to drum in that unusual way again as they waited. Her eyes scanned the area, making note of all the possible escape routes, if needed. It was a habit she had picked up on the road – always have an exit plan.

There was some commotion across the yard, a door slammed and the fencing rattled. A lone figure ran down the path. He was about halfway to them when others streamed from the prison. Rachel tightened her grip on Sarah as her eyes followed him until he stopped in front of them, her husband, shining a flashlight on them. Daryl looked at her with a wild disbelief. His voice cracked slightly as he took a tentative step forward.

"Rachel?"

Blinking back tears, Rachel nodded slowly. Words failed her.

"No…no, no…" Daryl growled, shaking his head. His chest heaved with all the emotion that suddenly overtook him. He kicked furiously at the ground. "You're supposed to be dead. He said you were dead – that bastard told me you were dead! Shit…"

Releasing Sarah, Rachel leapt up and threw herself at him. She held onto him as tight as she could, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her legs felt like cooked spaghetti beneath her, barely keeping her upright. Daryl buried his face against her neck, wanting to keep the others from seeing him breakdown. He had been letting his guard down around these people at a snail's pace, but something like this was far beyond his control. Things like this happened to people like Rick, not people like him. But Rachel was alive and had found him. He wanted to be happy, to feel joyful in the moment, but every fraction of those feelings was clouded by guilt. How could she have been mistaken for dead?

"Daryl?" a voice said, interrupting them after a while. It seemed the others' curiosity had peaked.

Daryl pulled away, quickly wiping his face with both hands. He took a deep breath and sniffed a few times, looking around at the onlookers. He was at a complete loss for words, never imaging that this was a possibility. Rachel's death was something he held close to his heart over the last year. It had been an agonizing thing to deal with, but tragedy and hardship were not unfamiliar to him. How could he even begin to explain it all to them? He didn't even have all the answers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl noticed that Carl had a firm grip on his pistol. He turned toward the boy. "You gonna shoot my wife?"

Carl frowned and replied with some skepticism, "You're married?"

"Yeah," Daryl eyeballed him for a moment and then looked around at the others, "is that so hard to believe?"

The boy shrugged uncertainly, holstering his gun. "It's just...you never mentioned it before."

"Nobody ever asked. Besides," Daryl huffed, turning back to Rachel, "she ain't even supposed to be alive."

"Who's that?" Carl asked, pointing at Sarah who was watching quietly from her spot on the ground. "Is she your daughter?"

"No," Rachel said, cutting in quickly. "She's not our daughter. That's Sarah and I'm Rachel. We've been together since near the beginning of all this – us and Jesse…"

The rest of her explanation was lost in silence as she remembered that Jesse was no longer with them. It was then that Sarah spoke up for the first time, her eyes brimming with tears as she got to her feet.

"It's your fault Jesse died!" she shouted, directing her anger at the two men she felt were responsible.

Rachel moved to put an arm around Sarah. She didn't completely disagree with her companion, but they did not want to start off on the wrong foot with these people. "He fell outside gates – just over there." She pointed to the cluster of walkers just passed the car; heads turned to look. "We had to fight them off while we tried to negotiate with your guys here. It was Jesse's choice to stay behind when they finally agreed to let us in. I think he wanted to make sure that Sarah and I were safe."

There were solemn nods around the group as they turned back to the two newcomers.

"You can bury him tomorrow, if you want," the gunman offered, looking at Daryl for his agreement. Daryl's head dipped. "We lost some of our own earlier today. We can put him near the others."

Rachel nodded, noting the sudden change in most of their expressions; it was obvious that she and Sarah were not the only ones in mourning. She appreciated the suggestion to bury him; something like that hadn't even crossed her mind. "That would be nice. Thank you."

"How'd you find us?" a young woman asked, getting to the question that was on most of their minds.

"Let's go back inside," Daryl cut in, making a motion to where Jesse had fallen. "Ain't no sense standing here listening to all that. We'll deal with it tomorrow morning."


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the evening was spent sharing stories from the past year. Daryl told them about their time spent at the quarry and the loss of Merle. Some of the others offered stories from their time spent on the Greene's farm, their travels during the winter, and taking the prison. They also brought them up to speed on their most recent losses: T-Dog, Lori, and Carol. Rachel shared how she had met Jesse and Sarah; how they fortified themselves inside a church over the winter with other survivors, moving on when things there turned south; and the traveling and scavenging that eventual led them to the prison.

As the night wore on and the younger ones started to filter off to bed, Rachel and Sarah were directed to one of the cells on the upper half of the block that wasn't being used. Blankets were offered to them until they could retrieve their own supplies from the car. After making up the top bunk, Sarah crawled in and curled up with a thick wool blanket, trying not to think about the fact that they were in a prison cell. Rachel was making up the bottom bunk for herself when Daryl stepped inside with a rifle slung over one shoulder.

"I gotta go relieve Glenn in the guard tower. I'm on watch tonight," he explained. "Just wanted to make sure you two were all set. It's secure and these are good people. You'll be safe."

Rachel frowned. Not only did she not like the idea of him being so far, but there was still so much they needed to talk about, things they could not share around the others. They needed some time to themselves.

"Can I come with you?" Rachel asked lightly.

"Please stay, Rachel." Sarah's voice floated down from the top bunk. She peered at them over the side. "I don't want to be in here alone."

Rachel looked from Sarah to Daryl, torn between the two. Her instinct was to stay, but she wanted so badly to be alone with Daryl, to finally have all her questions answered. She also didn't want to leave Sarah after everything that had happened during the day. Her anguish must have been obvious because Daryl spoke up.

"It's okay," he said with a slight nod. "Stay with her."

"I'll come out after she falls asleep," she assured him quietly. He dipped his head again and then left.

"I'm sorry," Sarah whispered, her head resting on the edge of the worn mattress.

Rachel drew in a deep breath as she watched him go down the stairs and then rolled her eyes up at her young companion. "For what?"

"Asking you to stay."

Stepping closer to the bunk, Rachel reached up and took Sarah's hand. "It's okay, I understand. Try to get some rest now. It's been a long day. And you heard Daryl; this place is safe. I'll stay with you 'til you fall asleep."

"Thank you, Rachel," Sarah replied, her eyes already glazed with sleepiness.

Rachel settled on the floor, leaning against the cement wall, afraid that she would fall asleep if she lied down. It was quiet except for a low murmur of voices from below; not everyone had gone to bed. As much as she wanted to be with Daryl, Rachel was grateful for this time to herself. She could process everything that had happened in the last few hours. It was such a whirlwind of extreme emotions, from the deep sadness of loss to the pure elation of joy. Rachel made a conscious decision to focus on the joy of finding her husband; there would be time to mourn Jesse tomorrow.

After such an emotionally charged day, it wasn't long before Sarah dropped off into what Rachel hoped was a peaceful sleep. They had not slept in proper beds for months. This was luxury compared to a sleeping bag on the hard, lumpy ground. Quietly, Rachel stood and then left the cell. Hershel, Glenn, Oscar, and Maggie were huddled around one of the tables in the outer room, talking in low voices. When Rachel neared, Maggie got up from the table and handed her a flashlight.

"Thanks," Rachel said, glad she wouldn't have to stumble around the yard in the dark. "Would you mind showing me where to find Daryl?"

Maggie agreed and the two women left the cell block. The night breeze was cool, but it felt wonderful after being inside the dank prison. Unfamiliar and empty, the prison yard had an eerie quality that gave Rachel a chill. Even with their location secured, the thought of how infested it once was unnerved her.

"How long have you and Daryl been married?" Maggie asked, trying to be friendly as they walked across the blacktop.

"Ten years."

Maggie looked perplexed."Really?"

"Yeah – but we've been together since high school," Rachel replied with a grin.

"How'd you two get separated?"

"That's what I'm hoping to find out," she admitted. "We weren't together when it happened. Daryl had been away for weekend, camping with his brother – or whatever it was they did together when Merle turned up."

"You can get in just there," Maggie said, pointing to the tower door. "I hope you get some answers."

Rachel thanked Maggie and the two parted ways. The little stick of light that Rachel held in her hand was a blessing as she made her way up the pitch black stairwell to the observation deck. Her nerves started to form as butterflies in her stomach as she ascended. As he came into view, Daryl was leaning against the rail, watching over the yard and into the woods. He turned at the sound of her approach, looking over his shoulder. Rachel's heart swelled. She was suddenly flooded with memories of sneaking around with him when they first started seeing each other. He was always the first to arrive, waiting on her, because she had the more difficult time finding excuses to sneak away. They might not be sneaking around now, but she felt that same sense of exhilaration as he watched her with steady eyes.

"Come here," he said, beckoning her forward when she hesitated. He set down the rifle as she crossed into his arms.

She felt his lips press against hers. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Her body felt shaky, tingling with elation. When they parted, Rachel rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and soaking in every inch of him that was touching her; it was something that she never thought she would get to do again. They stood like that for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms, grateful for this time to be together. Rachel would have stayed like that forever, but soon her mind was itching with all the questions that had plagued her since leaving their home in Jasper.

Drawing in a deep breath and slightly hesitant, she asked, "You gonna tell me what happened that day?"

It was Daryl's turn to inhale deeply. He turned, pulling away from her and shaking his head. He leaned against the iron rail, working very hard to control the surge of emotions that erupted inside of him. The events of that day had been a struggle to move passed, but each month that went by it got a little easier to put some of the anger and guilt behind him. He focused all his energy on the tasks he was handed in the new world: hunting, tracking, and killing walkers. It wasn't always easy, but it was necessary for survival. The pain had been real, but dwelling too much on the past was a distraction that he couldn't afford. Loosing Merle had caused him to revisit some of those feelings, but he quickly cast those aside to deal with the reality in front of him.

His eyes settled on her face, hardened from the trials that she had been through, but those eyes were gazing at him with a patient curiosity that was so familiar.

"We came for you – Merle and me," he started. His eyebrows furrowed as the memory flooded his mind. "We'd gone into Blue Ridge for some supplies and seen the reports on a television. By the time we packed up camp and rode back through, the town was in a panic. It was a damn mess."

"Didn't take long for things to escalate back home either," Rachel said solemnly.

"Neighborhood was overrun by the time we got to the house. Merle found you first – told me you were dead. I saw you for a second, but that son of a bitch wouldn't let me near you." Daryl paused, pursing his lips as the haunting image flashed in his mind. "You were lying on the bathroom floor, covered in blood. I didn't know what to think. Merle dragged me from the house, threw me in the truck, and never looked back. We headed for Atlanta, and you know the rest of the story."

Rachel closed her eyes, trying to imagine what it must have looked like from their perspective. A tiny part of her wondered if Merle had even checked for a pulse before declaring her dead. She tolerated Merle as best she could because he was Daryl's family. Merle, on the other hand, very openly shared his feelings about her, and none of it was ever in her favor. He was a very difficult man to get along with, but she did her best. In this instance, Rachel was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt under the extreme circumstances of that day. It was also likely that he had been inebriated or doped up; even more likely, he had been both, so maybe he hadn't felt a pulse.

"I'd been in town when the first few were spotted. It turned into chaos real quick. People starting stealing things and beating on each other – people we knew. I got out of there as quick as I could. I prayed all the way home that you were on your way back."

"Rae, I'm sorry…"

"When I got there, I went to the shed to get the shotgun and shells, just in case. While I was in there, Mr. Burnett must've heard me – only it wasn't the nice old man from next door."

"Shit."

"He had blood all on his face and down his shirt; his hand were covered too. I can only imagine that he turned on Mrs. Burnett. He came at me, making all sorts of awful noises. I was shaking so bad – couldn't get the shells in so I fought him off best I could with the butt of the gun, but he kept coming at me. I grabbed a crowbar and jammed it into his eye socket. His weight fell against me and we went down; that's where all the blood came from. After I pushed him off, I ran him through a couple more times, just to be sure."

"That's my girl," Daryl interjected with a faint smile.

Rachel shook her head, wiping away the tears that slipped out. Her first kill had been another one of those memories that haunted her. "I sat with him for a few minutes, crying, but then I felt sick to my stomach. I had just put a crowbar into our neighbor's head. I ran for the bathroom, got sick, and then passed out – don't know for how long."

"I'm gonna be sick," Daryl said, spitting the vile taste in his mouth over the side of the tower. "Damn-it! Why didn't I check you myself? If I'da just got to you…touched you. Ten minutes, either way, and we'd have been fine!"

His hands still gripped the railing, knuckles white, and he was breathing heavily. Rachel wiped her damp cheeks again. When he calmed down some, she continued,

"I waited a couple days, but when you didn't come home I left. I didn't want to be alone. I figured I'd see if my dad and Charlene were still alive, maybe stay with them, and look in on your dad."

"And?"

"Never made it that far. I met Jesse on the way there. He said the west end of town was swamped with walkers. I just couldn't take that chance to find out."

"What about my old man?"

Rachel frowned. "Can't say for sure. We heard from some folks in the area that he had been shooting at anything that came close to the house. It sounded like he hit a few live people before they wised up and left him alone. Wasn't worth the risk to find out more. I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he muttered, shaking his head. "It ain't your fault. You know he was drunk off his ass, probably didn't even know what the hell was going on. Wouldn't be the first time he unloaded on people he thought were trespassing."

"I hate not knowing what happened to them," she added with a sigh, but then brightened a little. "I'm glad I don't have to worry about you now. Hell, I can't believe we found you. It gives me a little hope though."

"It does?"

"Yeah, good things are still happening."


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel spent the rest of the night in the guard tower, falling asleep on a mattress that was kept in the enclosure. It had been a long, emotionally wearing day, and once her nagging questions were appeased, Rachel's body turned against her and refused to stay awake. Daryl dragged the mattress onto the deck and sat with her until she drifted off. There was no need to be afraid or to plan ahead for their continued survival. In those last moments before sleep took hold, Rachel thought only of how thankful she was for everything she had.

As the sun's first rays peeked up over the horizon, the warm light touched Rachel's face. She stirred, her mind slowly returning to reality. Those first thoughts were hazy as they tried to remind her of all the events from the day before: cars, motorcycles, walkers, Jesse, Daryl… Rachel refused to open her eyes, wanting to hold onto that image of Daryl. She was afraid to find that it all had been a dream; that she was still in a tent with Jesse and Sarah by her side. But as memories from the night before began to fall into place, she knew everything from yesterday had actually taken place. There was a mixture of happiness and sadness attached to this realization.

Her eyes fluttered open. As she wiped the sleep from them, Rachel sat up and looked around, expecting to see Daryl at his post. He was nowhere in sight. She stood, stretching her limbs to get them working, and then walked the length of the observation deck. It was on the far side that she spotted him, walking across the yard, away from what looked like three freshly dug graves. Rachel leaned against the railing and watched him with a sleepy smile. He must have felt her gaze because after a few more strides he looked up briefly and shifted the crossbow slung on his shoulder. She continued to watch him until he disappeared around the side of the tower.

A few seconds later, Daryl stepped onto the deck. It was in that moment that Rachel realized this was her first look at him in proper light. He stooped and leaned the bow against the wall, then continued forward. The most noticeable thing, of course, was the layer of dirt that he was covered in, but it wasn't all that surprising. Rachel knew she wasn't any cleaner. She had got a look at herself in a mirror yesterday; it proved to be quite a shock, even though she was well aware that it had been days since they had last washed up. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Daryl to be covered in grime, but Rachel always tried to those instances few and far between.

As he drew near, she studied his face. There were unfamiliar lines and scars etched in his skin, marking the hardship endured over the year. It pained her to think of all the ways that he had acquired them. His eyes were steely and focused in a way that she knew quite well. He kept a steady gaze on her, like a hunter does his prey. Daryl took hold of her at the hips and paused to complete his own assessment of her well being. She clasped her hand behind his neck and provided him with a reassuring little smile. He leaned in and kissed her, gently at first, but soon it became impassioned. Still entwined, they worked their way into the enclosed guard room for more privacy, leaving articles of clothing along the path.

"How'd you get these?" Rachel asked soon after they had finished. She ran her fingers over and between the two scars on the left side of his torso.

"It's a long story." Daryl rolled onto his back and folded his hands behind his head. "We should probably be getting back to the others soon."

"Come on, Daryl, please," she coaxed, resting her head on his chest, "tell me."

He grunted in resignation. "I went after that little girl – Sophia. The horse I was riding got spooked and I fell down into a ravine."

Rachel shifted so that she could look at him. A soft, playful smile graced her lips. "Hold on – a horse? What the hell were you doing on a horse?"

"Shut up," he replied defensively, but then smirked, "figured it was faster than on foot. Anyway, the damn thing threw me and one of my arrows stuck me on the way down."

"Into a ravine?" she clarified, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, hurt like hell. Had to pull that son of bitch out too 'cause two walkers found me – used it on one of them assholes. Hershel patched me up when I finally made it back to camp."

"All for that little girl," she observed with a small, understanding smile. She pushed herself forward and kissed him.

"We really should get back," he insisted, sitting up and collecting the nearby clothes. "Got some things to get done today."

"I suppose so," Rachel agreed, pulling on pieces as he tossed them to her. She sighed as a reality settled in again. "We've got to bury Jesse – or whatever's left of him."

Daryl paused in the doorway, looking at her hesitantly. "What was he to you?"

Tugging on her boot, Rachel rolled her eyes up at him as she tied the laces. "What do you mean?"

"What kind of relationship did you have with him?"

"The kind that involved surviving..."

She stared up at him with eyebrows raised slightly, waiting for him to get to the point.

"You sleep with him?"

"No, I didn't sleep with him," she retorted, rising to her feet. "We were a little busy fighting for our lives, Daryl, and looking after that girl. Why would you ask me that?"

His expression relaxed and he shrugged. "Just wondering. You were with him a long time."

"You been with these people a long time," Rachel shot back, wondering how he could think such a thing. "From the sound of it there were plenty of women around. Have you slept with anyone?"

"No," he spat, shifting the bow that he had slung over his shoulder. "Why would I?"

"Well, why would I?" she demanded. "I believed you might still be alive – both Jesse and Sarah were well aware of that! Damn-it, Daryl. Why'd you have to go and spoil the moment?"

Rachel pushed by him and stepped out onto the deck. The sun had just about cleared the tops of the trees. Daryl took hold of her wrist to keep her from going too far. She turned with a doleful expression, finished with the accusations.

"I just had to know, okay?" he told her in a gentler voice. "We don't need no secrets between us, Rae. Those kind of things ain't done well here in the past."

Drawing in a deep, calming breath, she looked him square in the eye and repeated, "We've never had secrets, Daryl – and this is not the time to start. Nothing happened between me and Jesse, I swear."

Daryl chewed on his lip as he thought it over and then nodded. "Okay, let's head back."

Together they made their way back to the cell block. Upon their arrival, they found a few of the others gathered in the outside chamber eating a light breakfast. A small portion of food was set out on the table with some bowls and spoons. Daryl had taken two and was about to hand one to Rachel when she realized that Sarah was not among them. Making her query about the girl's absence, the response caused her some worry.

"I went up to check on the two of you, to tell y'all there was food. I invited Sarah to join us, but she refused to leave the cell," Beth explained, looking between Rachel and Daryl.

Refusing her own breakfast, Rachel left the room to retrieve her young friend. It wasn't like Sarah to decline an offer of food. As she left the room, Daryl asked if Rick had returned, but Rachel heard no response. She took the stairs two at a time and could see Sarah in the bunk when she reached the second level.

"Hey," Rachel called out; Sarah sat up, looking a bit frazzled. "You sleep all right?"

Sarah shrugged without much change in expression. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Good!"

"You never made it back last night," Sarah added, pointing out the obvious.

"No, I didn't – sorry," Rachel replied, offering a weak smile. It was clear the teenager was upset with her, so she chose her words carefully. "Daryl and I talked for a while – found out what happened the day we got separated. I fell asleep in the tower. I wouldn't have left you if I didn't think it was safe."

"I know…" she said quietly, not quite meeting Rachel's gaze.

"You aren't hungry? They've got some food waiting down stairs for you," Rachel offered, trying to coax an explanation out of her about this strange behavior. When the only response was a head shake, Rachel tried a more direct approach. "I've never known you to turn down food, so something's up. Spill it, Sarah."

Sarah looked around the room for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "What's gonna happen to me?"

"What do you mean?" Rachel's eyebrows arched, not entirely prepared for such a question. "Nothing's gonna happen to you."

The teen's eyes suddenly glistened with tears. "I mean, you found your husband and Jesse's gone. I don't know these people. I've got no one left."

Sarah's concerns had some merit. They made sense in her fifteen year old mind. She and Rachel might have spent the better part of a year together, but they were unconnected in any other way. Fear of being left behind, forgotten, or not cared for was a genuine cause for worry; no one wanted to be alone in this world. At least if Jesse had survived, Sarah would have someone else to band together with, someone unconnected to this new group.

It broke Rachel's heart to hear that Sarah thought she could be dismissed so easily. As far as she was concerned, after all that they had been through, Sarah and Jesse had become family. It was easy to see how Sarah might look passed all of that because Jesse's loss was still so fresh, and there was the prospect of having to develop relationships with new people.

"I don't know these people either, but we'll get to know them," Rachel assured her and then smiled. "And besides, you're not getting rid of me that easily. We're in this together, you and me."

Sarah sniffed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "What about Daryl?"

"We should probably keep an eye on him too. He'll be good to have around," Rachel quipped with a grin. "Come on, let's get you a bite to eat. We've got some work to do today."

"Okay," Sarah replied, sliding down from the bunk.

The two returned to where the others were discussing plans for the day. There was talk of clearing out a generator room and some of the lower levels, making a run for supplies, and also helping Rachel and Sarah move their car and bury Jesse. Rachel was impressed by how organized they were. A plan was in motion and everyone had their part to play. Daryl and Glenn would help Rachel and Sarah with retrieving the car and body. Oscar and Axel would dig the grave with the others. Rachel's stomach turned at the thought of moving Jesse's mutilated body – or whatever happened to be left of it.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I've gone back and edited the earlier chapters, adding and changing bits here and there - nothing mind-blowing, I don't think, but I'm happier with the story now. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Rachel retched. She turned her head away momentarily, covering her mouth with a hand; thankful she didn't eat anything for breakfast. They had to be quick about it, but her pause couldn't be helped. All that remained of Jesse Buchanan was a mess of bones, mangled organs, and flesh. Regrouping and chancing another look, Rachel called back to Sarah who had not yet come around the car, telling her to wait inside the gate. There was no need for the teenager to see such a grotesque sight. Sarah was already upset over the loss; it would be best not to traumatize her further.

"Glenn and I can handle this," Daryl offered, draping a cloth over what remained of her friend. "Go pull the car in."

Grateful, Rachel nodded and turned back. She climbed into the driver's seat and sat for a minute, watching the two men work. As they lifted the bundle, she turned the key and drove through the gate as Carl pulled it open. It was an odd kind of funeral procession. When the car was parked as directed, Rachel made her way across the yard to where the graves were located. It would be some time before the hole was ready for the burial. Sarah offered to help dig, wanting to be of some use in the process. Not wanting to leave Sarah alone with the inmates, Rachel sat down in the grass and watched.

After a while, Axel left with Daryl and Glenn. They would collect Maggie on their way down to the generator room. The plan was to have Axel take a look it over to ensure that it was working properly, just in case of an emergency. Walkers also needed to be cleared out from the area, which is why the others went with him. There was no reason for Rachel to follow; she would take her turn digging and then lay Jesse to rest.

Rachel wiped the sweat from her forehead and tossed the shovel to one side. Oscar helped her out of the pit. It was finally ready. She took one side of the unnaturally slim bundle while Oscar took the other. After placing Jesse in his final resting place, the three of them set to work pushing the dirt over the body. When the task was complete, Oscar left them to say their farewells.

Sarah sat down at the foot of the grave and buried her face in her hands. Rachel joined her and put an arm around the teen, wiping away her own tears and trying to think of something appropriate to say. The two of them sat there for a while, allowing their grief to consume them. It felt nice to be able to mourn and say good-bye without having to fear for their own lives. When she could cry no more, Rachel sniffed and said,

"I don't think I ever apologized for almost running you over that day we met, but I can't say I'm all that sorry. If it weren't for you, I don't think I'd have survived long enough to find Daryl. Yeah, he really was here – can you believe that? He was riding that stupid ass motorcycle we heard yesterday." She took a breath. "Thanks for having my back in all this. I know you'll still be watching over us."

"Yeah, thanks Jesse," Sarah added, resting her head on Rachel's shoulder. "I'll miss you."

After a few more minutes of silence between the two, Rachel inhaled deeply, wiped her tear-stained face, and then stood. It was time to move on from this loss and focus on what lay ahead. They had to figure out how to integrate with this group and contribute to their well-being.

"Ready to head back?" she asked, holding out a hand to help Sarah from the ground. "Let's stop at the car and get some supplies – only what we need though. The rest of it stays."

When they reached the car, Rachel popped the trunk and began filling bags with the food items that they had collected and rationed. They might as well share their provisions. Sarah pulled out the packs, pillows, and sleeping bags from the back seat, hoping they would help make their cell feel a little more familiar. Rachel kept a count of everything that would be left in the car.

One of the gates nearby creaked and Rachel moved to see where the noise came from, still wary of the unfamiliar surroundings. She wanted to trust that the prison was safe, but letting her guard down would not break that easily. It was a relief and pleasant surprise to find Daryl walking toward them. The sight of him made her heart flutter in such an annoying way; she was still getting used to the idea of being back together. As he neared, Daryl called out that lunch was ready. Rachel's eyebrows rose, surprised by how much time had passed. Bogged down with supplies, Sarah glanced back at Rachel before heading inside.

"How's the kid?" Daryl asked, his eyes shifting toward the retreating Sarah.

Following his gaze, Rachel replied, "She'll be all right. I think she's worried about making new friends. We haven't done that in a while."

"And you?"

"I'm fine," Rachel assured him. He didn't look convinced. "I promise. I'll be fine. Y'all let us bury him and say good-bye. It's more than we'd have gotten if he'd died in another place."

"I'm sorry about your friend," Daryl said, taking one of the food bags that she had packed.

Offering him a smile, she pulled on her pack that Sarah had left and grabbed the other bag of food. "I'm sorry about yours. So many in one day, couldn't have been easy."

"It ain't the first time – hell, it ain't even the second time." He frowned, considering the losses he had been witness to over the last year. "I guess it's to be expected in a time like this."

"Expected? Maybe… But I don't think you ever get used to it."

"No, you don't."

During lunch, the man that they had been talking about, Rick, made an appearance. He seemed distracted and didn't stay long, just wanting to check on his children. He stopped just long enough to inquire about the two new faces in his prison, but left almost immediately after Daryl provided him with an explanation. It was a little strange, but Rachel chose not to question it. The man had lost his wife during child birth the day before; clearly he was dealing with it in his own manner and didn't want to be bothered.

After everyone had eaten, a plan for the afternoon was put in place. Glenn and Maggie went on a run for more baby formula and other necessities. Carl, Oscar, and Daryl went down to the lower levels to clear out the walkers and look for anything else of use to them. Axel was still in the generator room. Beth and Hershel tended to the baby and cleaned up for lunch. Rachel and Sarah were left to settle into their new home.

When she had made her bed and organized the supplies, Rachel went back into the common area to see if Hershel and Beth needed help with anything. It felt strange to have time to be idle. There had to be something that needed to be done in this place.

"Actually, yes," Hershel said, rising from his seat when Rachel came to them. "Stay here with Beth and help look after the baby. I'm going to go find Rick – see if I can talk some sense into him."

Rachel nodded, thankful for something to keep her mind occupied. It would be good to spend some time with Beth. Perhaps Sarah would join them; it would do her good to make friends with someone closer to her in age. Rachel and Beth watched as Hershel hobbled out of the room. Beth called after him to be careful before he plunged into the depths of the prison.

"Does the little one have a name?" Rachel asked, breaking the ice after a few moments of silence. It seemed odd that no one had mentioned the baby's name at all.

Beth shook her head, staring down at the bundle in her arms. A shy smile pulled at her lips and she looked up again. "Daryl calls her Little Asskicker."

Grinning, Rachel moved around the table to sit next to Beth so that she could get a better look at the baby. "Does he?"

The younger girl gave a nod. "Yeah, he's real good with her too."

"That doesn't surprise me much," Rachel admitted, feeling a lump form in her throat. She was looking for a change in subject when Sarah appeared. The teen was a welcomed interruption even if she didn't change the subject much.

"You know, Daryl is different than I expected," Sarah interjected, joining them at the table.

Amused, Rachel raised a brow. "How so?"

"I don't know." The teen shrugged. "He's not what I imagined when you'd talk about him."

"You're not the first person to say that." Rachel chuckled.

"Why's that?" Beth asked.

Rachel took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and considered the two young girls in front of her. They looked back at her, eager for some short lived entertainment. Storytelling and memories were all they had left of life before the uprising of the dead.

"He and I didn't exactly grow up in the same neighborhood. My family had money – his didn't. I was a cheerleader in high school, involved in just about everything. Daryl had a few friends, but mostly kept to himself. He'd miss a lot of school when Merle was around. Most folks knew the Dixon's didn't have a great home life, or speculated about it. A lot of people have questioned our relationship."

"So how'd you end up together?" Beth asked, intrigued.

Rachel smiled. "Daryl showed up at the right moment and got me out of a rather unpleasant situation when we were in high school. After that I realized there was more to him than all that talk. So, we started to spend more and more time together – sneaking around mostly."

"Didn't you tell me you'd been married ten years?" Sarah inquired.

"Yes, I was twenty-four when we got married. Between our two families, our relationship wasn't easy to maintain. Hell, between the two of us our relationship wasn't always easy to maintain," Rachel said with a nod. "I actually think we would have gotten married sooner, but I went away to college."

Beth's eyebrows rose. "Where'd you go?"

"University of Georgia – my daddy was hell bent that I attend his alma mater. I think he was hoping that by getting me out of Jasper, I'd forget about Daryl and find someone more to his liking. He also wanted me to have a degree to fall back on when Daryl left me – his words, not mine." The two younger girls exchanged a look and Rachel continued, "I dated a few guys in college, but they just weren't Daryl. But really, that's it – nothing glamorous, but it raises a lot of eyebrows."

Conversation continued on relationships as Beth shared a little bit about Jimmy and a few of the boys she had dated. Rachel took Little Asskicker from Beth to give her a break while Sarah regaled them with tales of the boys she had crushing on in school. It was a nice, rare moment to talk about frivolous things, and Rachel was happy that Sarah was getting along with Beth.

They hadn't gotten too far into Sarah's history when Hershel returned from his jaunt. Rick had not followed. Hershel joined them at the table without much of an explanation. Conversation turned from relationships to ideas for dinner. Rachel was curious about what transpired between the two men, but did not think it was her place to pry.

It wasn't long after Hershel returned that Carl appeared in the doorway. He looked no worse for wear, which in some ways was comforting. It indicated that they hadn't run into trouble during their sweep. But if that was the case, why was he short two men? Rachel watched him all the way into the room. He went around the corner and reappeared with a bottle of water.

"Where are Oscar and Daryl?" Hershel inquired, eyes flickering toward Rachel. She kept her eyes trained on the boy.

"Oscar is with Axel. Daryl stayed behind, said he needed some time alone," Carl explained, gulping down some water.

"You left him down there on his own?" Rachel stammered.

Carl stared at her blankly. "It was all clear."

"Daryl can handle himself," Hershel added.

"I know that," Rachel replied curtly. She still didn't like the thought of him wandering around down there by himself. No one should be left on their own.

Carl turned to Hershel again. "We found Carol's knife stuck in a walker."

Hershel and Beth nodded solemnly. The name sounded familiar to Rachel, so Carol must have been one of their recent losses. They all sat quietly for a few minutes until Hershel reached out to take the baby. With nothing to keep her occupied here, Rachel stood and made to leave the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hershel demanded, assuming that she was going after Daryl.

"I'm not going anywhere. Like you said, my husband can take care of himself," Rachel retorted and stalked from the room to find some to keep busy with.

The eerie quiet of the prison did not mix well with her racing mind. Rachel tried to keep busying by rifling through her pack and Sarah's for clothes that might need to be washed. There had to be somewhere she could at least give them a good scrub. It had been a while since the last opportunity to wash clothes and some of them were quite foul, both in appearance and smell. The only comfort came from the spurts of girlish laughter that rang through the cell. At least Sarah had found some comfort in their situation.

After a while, Rachel returned to the common room to help the others prepare dinner. Hershel kept care of the baby while the other three started in on the cooking. Rachel was fixing another bottle when Rick reappeared. He immediately went to Hershel and took the baby into his arms. There were very few words exchanged, but Rick took off outside with Hershel, Carl, and Beth in tow. From the looks of him, Rachel thought he could use some fresh air.

"I need help in here!" The room was suddenly filled with Daryl's voice, loud and insistent – something was up.

Rachel scrambled from her seat and hurried into the cell block to see what he needed. Sarah was close at her heels. Expecting to find him injured and bleeding all over the place, she didn't quite know how to react to the sight of the woman that he held in his arms. From the distance there was no way to tell if she was conscious or not.

"Get water – in the second cell," Daryl ordered as soon as he laid eyes on Rachel and then walked into one of the cells.

Rachel retrieved a bottle of water and took it to Daryl, who was squatting at the side of the bed. The woman was conscious, lying on the bottom bunk, but looked fatigued. Handing the bottle to Daryl, Rachel watched as he helped the woman sip on water. After a few small draughts, she settled back on the pillow and gave a faint smile.

"Thank you," she croaked, squeezing one of his hands.

"Where's everyone at?" Daryl asked, looking up at Rachel.

"Outside," Rachel replied, feeling the woman's eyes watching her. "Rick is back."

"Who are they?" the woman asked quietly, sitting up slightly and sipping more water. Her eyes moved curiously between the two new faces.

"That's Rachel and Sarah," he said, pointing to each of them in turn. "They found us yesterday. This is Carol."

Rachel's jaw dropped slightly. Even though she didn't know Carol, Rachel felt that her discovery was meaningful in some way. Perhaps things were beginning to look up for the survivors and they could really make a life together in the prison. But that thought was all in vain, such wishful thinking during times like these. There was a short, but joyful reunion with Carol, which showed Rachel how much this group cared for one another.

But then there was the matter of the injured woman that Rick had found outside the gate and brought inside for Hershel to look at. Her presence set everyone on edge. It was soon discovered that Glenn and Maggie had been taken to a nearby town called Woodbury where a large group of survivors had managed to fortify. A plan was soon underway to retrieve Glenn and Maggie.

"How can I help?" Rachel asked as the car was being packed for the journey. She directed the question more toward Rick since he was calling the shots.

Rick eyed her up. "Can you shoot?"

"Well enough," she replied, not missing the look he sent to Daryl to confirm her statement.

"Good. We need a few good guns here to keep an eye on things," he told her.

Rachel nodded, a little disappointed that the offer wasn't to go with them, if only so that she could stay close to Daryl. It didn't seem fair to have him put in harm's way so soon after being reunited, but she understood why he was doing it. She would have done the same if Jesse or Sarah had been taken. Rachel watched as Daryl closed the hatch on the car, signaling that they were ready to head out. With arms folded across her chest, she walked up to him and looked him square in the eyes.

"Do what you have to do, but if you die… I'll kill you." She gave him a small smile, pecked him on the lips, and whispered, "Just come back to me, okay?"

"I will," he replied with a nod.

Rachel walked back and stood with Sarah and the others, watching the three men and Michonne pile into the car and drive through the gates. They had no idea what they would find at this Woodbury place; Michonne did not speak very kindly toward it. This worried Rachel. What if they didn't come back? Those who were left at the prison would not make a strong defense if something happened. Sarah leaned against her and gave her a comforting squeeze.

"They'll be alright."

"Yeah, they will," Rachel said with a quick nod, ignoring the uneasy feeling that was building in the pit of her stomach. She turned, wanting to busy herself with finishing dinner, and came face to face with Carol. Carol had her fixed in a confused, but calculating gaze.

"It seems I've missed some of the details about who you are."


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel blinked, needing a moment to register what Carol meant. Thinking back, Daryl introduced them simply by name, saying that they found the prison the previous day. There was no mention of her ties to him. Suddenly, Rachel felt her defenses rising; something about the way Carol was looking at her triggered that territorial instinct that most women possess.

"Daryl's my husband."

"Oh," Carol replied, looking crestfallen. Her mind had made the leap already, but her heart was not prepared to hear the truth. It had taken her the better part of a year to build the relationship that she had with Daryl, so when she saw him interacting so intimately with a woman who had just joined the group, she knew there had to be an explanation. She tried her best to remain as neutral as possible, even though her heart felt deflated. "He never said anything about being married."

"So I've heard," Rachel replied lightly, remembering that Glenn had a similar reaction to the news. "It's not exactly what a wife wants to hear after so many years of devotion, but I suppose it's just Daryl's way of dealing with tragedy."

Carol nodded, trying to think of something more to say, but the sudden turn of events were not easy to digest. She had grown to care for Daryl in a much different way than she cared for all the others. They had a connection, a friendship that Carol felt could blossom into something more, but Daryl always seemed uncertain or unwilling when she flirted with him. His reasons were quite obvious now; his heart was elsewhere. But why didn't he tell her that he was married? "Where have you been all this time?"

"Dead," Rachel told her, feeling as if Carol's question was an accusation more than curiosity. "At least that's what Daryl thought. After he and I got separated, I did the same as you folks, tried to survive with the people I encountered along the way. I was never certain that Daryl was dead, so I just kept praying that we'd find each other again."

In some ways Carol hated the feelings that were swirling around inside her. Jealousy was something that a grown woman should be able to control. It wasn't like Daryl chose this pretty newcomer over her; Rachel was his wife. Carol knew this was something that she had to accept, even if it broke her already broken heart. She offered a small, understanding smile to Rachel. "Count your blessings."

After Carol walked away, Rachel pondered the conversation for a moment – something felt odd about the interaction. Of course, she had her suspicions as to why it felt so strange, but she didn't want to jump to conclusions. If Daryl had been intimate with another woman, Rachel would have known – she was sure of it. She had always been able to see right through his lies. So, it wasn't that. Brushing off the feeling, Rachel decided to leave it be for now.

Inside the cell block, the remaining members of the group were gathered in the common room. Beth and Sarah had taken over the dinner preparation, and Carol was tending to Judith – the baby had finally been given a proper name. When Hershel suggested that someone keep watch outside, Rachel offered. As much as she wanted to keep her mind occupied, some real time alone felt necessary. They armed her with one of the guns that they had taken from the prison armory. Hershel followed her outside to show her exactly how to use it.

Rachel settled in, sitting on the edge of the deck with her legs dangling over the side. A lovely breeze played through her hair as she drank in the late afternoon sun. She scanned the surrounding area. Only a handful of walkers were visible around the outside fence and in the trees. All was quiet in the world. She hoped it stayed that way, unless of course it meant the safe return of the rest of their group. Rachel closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for each of them, Maggie and Glenn included. Just bring them back alive, that was all she asked.

Between the quiet, the warm sun, and a wandering mind, it wasn't long before Rachel was lost in her thoughts. She reflected on the last few days and all the emotions that they brought. Carol's comment of "count your blessings" really struck her as true. There was so much to be thankful for, despite the loss of Jesse. She felt incredibly blessed to have these people welcome her into their community, to have a safe place to sleep, and food to eat. None of those things, however, held up against the miracle of having Daryl back; that was the true blessing in all of this. It amazed her that there could be such joy amidst so much chaos and suffering.

She could have sat there for days, lost in the memories and the imaginings of her mind, but after a while Sarah joined her. Rachel did not mind all that much; it was nice to have the company. The teen did not stay very long because she had promised to play a game of cards with Beth and Carl when she returned. Rachel took the opportunity after Sarah left to walk a few laps around the deck to stretch her legs. They were stiff from sitting for so long. On her fourth turn around, she noticed Carol walking across the pavement toward the guard tower. Rachel waited by her original post until the other woman appeared.

"Hey," Carol greeted her with a warm smile. "Axel said he'd come relieve you in a little while, but I thought you might like something to hold you over until then."

Rachel nodded and took the bowl. "Thank you. That's very kind."

"You're welcome," Carol replied, folding her arms over her chest and looking out across the yard for a moment. "I'm sorry about earlier. It just caught me off guard is all, you being Daryl's wife."

"Don't worry about it – you didn't know," Rachel said, not quite certain how else to respond. "There were quite a few changes for you to process today. It's understandable."

Carol nodded, resigning herself to the next part of the conversation. "I just want you to know that Daryl has done a lot for me over the last year – more than I can ever repay him for, but I've done my best. I've cared for him. We've grown close, but please don't take that the wrong way; it wasn't anything physical."

"I know," Rachel assured her, suspicions from earlier confirmed.

"You do?"

"Look, Daryl questioned my relationship with Jesse, the man that Sarah and I traveled with, so I turned the tables on him," she explained, feeling a bit amused by the whole situation. If this was a chance to air out any awkwardness and move on, she would take it because Carol obviously felt the need to set things straight. "I was pissed that he questioned my loyalty, but I could tell he needed to hear it. If he had been with another woman, I would've known from one look at him." She smiled and continued with complete sincerity. "Carol - I'm glad he had someone looking out for him. He needs it more than he knows. So, thank you – I mean it."

Carol offered her a smile and nodded, thankful to have that out in the open. There had already been one severely failed love triangle; this group did not need another. Not that their situation was anything like the one between Rick and Shane, but there was no need to let any assumptions fester and escalate to the point that they became damaging to the group.

Rachel chuckled. "He'd probably be living in the woods, whittling sharp sticks, eating raw animals, and wiping his ass with pine cones, if left to his own devices."

"He'd survive though," Carol added with a laugh.

"He sure would," Rachel said and then invited Carol to sit with her as she ate the contents of the bowl. "What's your story? How'd you end up with these people?"

"My husband, my daughter, and I were on our way to Atlanta – just like everybody else. Heard it was safe there. We met Lori and Carl when traffic came to a standstill. When we realized that Atlanta was a bust, a bunch of folks pulled together and made a camp – it seemed safe for a while. There were a lot of us in beginning, but then the deaths started to add up. My husband got bit early on, shortly after Rick turned up. My daughter…Sophia… well, she got bit too."

"Yeah, Daryl told me about your daughter. I'm so sorry. Losing a child is not easy."

"Daryl was so determined – certain that we would find her some place. I mean, everybody helped look for Sophia, but he really stepped up, did more than his share, to help look for her. It was comforting to have someone care as much as he did – even though he said it was because he had nothing else to do. I know there was something more to it than that, but after we found her in the barn, bitten, I never brought it up again."

Rachel slowly exhaled and looked at the other woman carefully, contemplating how much to divulge about the past. In some way she was amazed by how little Daryl had shared with them, but in another way it was not at all surprising. Wanting to encourage the possibility of a friendship with Carol, Rachel decided to share her story and shed a little more light on the Dixons' past. She inhaled deeply, wondering what it would feel like to talk about it once again; it had been so long. But, if Carol could talk about her daughter, so could Rachel.

"We had a little girl – Ava." Rachel looked away from the wide eyes that were gazing at her with such surprise in them. She smiled with fondness as her little girl's face filled her mind. "She was perfect. But, about a year before all this started, Ava died in a car accident. She had been on her way home from a play date with a friend of ours. We're not sure exactly how it happened, but Denise went off the road and rolled the car. Denise was dead when the paramedics arrived, but Ava died later in the hospital."

Carol gasped. "How awful – I'm sorry. How old was she?"

"About a month away from turning six," Rachel replied, feeling a lump forming in her throat. "We were absolutely heartbroken – as I'm sure you understand. Daryl was a complete mess, but I was the one that became unhinged. It got pretty ugly for a while; I started drinking a lot, but Daryl never left me – might have threatened to on occasion, but he took care of me. I'd been sober for about two months when the world went to shit and we got separated; just when I had started to heal and move forward with life."

"It helps explain Daryl some," Carol admitted as she thought back when Sophia went missing. "And you're right; losing a child tears a part of your soul. I had time to prepare for the worst. It didn't really make it much easier when we finally found her, but I think some part of me knew that she was dead."

Rachel shivered as a chill ran up her spine. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like for you."

"As much as I want Sophia here with me, I know she's in a better place," Carol said confidently.

"I agree – I also like to think of how many boys have been spared from dealing with her overprotective, crossbow-wielding father," Rachel replied with a chuckle, her eyes dancing at the thought.

"He wouldn't have been that bad, would he?" Carol asked, laughing.

Rachel groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Now, I love my husband, but good lord, he would have been the worst. He'd have been sitting out on the porch with dead animals strung from the roof, his crossbow, every gun and knife he owned out for a cleaning, while he waited for a boy to call on her."

The two women were laughing and talking about the joys of raising children when Axel finally turned up to take watch. And as much as she was enjoying the conversation with Carol, Rachel was grateful for the interruption. It pained her heart to speak of Ava, especially the time after her death, but she was proud of herself for doing so with more love than sadness, and even a bit of humor. Carol decided to stay with Axel for a bit, so Rachel made her way back into cell block alone. With her emotions exhausted, it was almost overwhelming to have to interact with the others who were gathered around Judith, trying to keep the baby happy. Rachel planned to go lie down for a while and rest while she had the chance. With any luck, the others would be back when she woke.

* * *

_A/N: Well, maybe not quite the smackdown you all were hoping for, but I want Rachel to be a little more levelheaded than say, Lori. :-) Anyway, thank you to all who started following this story; it is very encouraging. I would love it if you left a review - tell me what you thought. Thank you!_


	7. Chapter 7

The cell was dark when Rachel finally woke from her slumber, so there was no telling what time it was – not that time really mattered a whole lot. She sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes and listening for some indication that others were still awake. As her mind tuned into reality, she heard some commotion coming from below. There was an unfamiliar voice yelling for someone to open the door. Rachel got up, left the cell, and peered over the side. Carl and Beth stood inside the door while two new faces looked at them from the outside. Curious, she went downstairs to inquire.

"Is Daryl back?" she asked, thinking that the new people came back with the others. When Carl shook his head, she asked the next logical question, "Who are they?"

"Found them in the boiler room," Carl replied shortly. "Must've come in through an opening in the building somewhere."

"I thought this place was secure?" She looked between the two teens and Hershel, who was in checking on Judith.

"There are plenty of places we haven't been yet," Carl told her. "But don't worry; we're still safe in this block."

Rachel stared at the young boy and he sent a hard gaze back. She nodded, wanting to believe that the prison was still the safest place that they could be. It wouldn't do any good to think otherwise, not with the people that were left to defend it. "Will you let them stay?"

"For now," Hershel interjected. "We'll let Rick decide when he gets back. They'll stay in there tonight. I'm going to talk with them – see what we can work out for now. One of their people died on the way in; I think they'll want to bury her tomorrow."

"I can look after Judith for a while if you want to tend to them," Rachel offered, as an anxious feeling crept over. She had hoped that the others would be back by now, but they really had no idea what they were getting themselves into with this town. Anything could be happening. It was also unsettling to discover outsiders had found a way into the prison, especially when they're own numbers had dwindled. "Is anybody on watch?"

"Axel and Carol," Carl told her and then followed Hershel out into the other room to keep an eye on the newcomers.

Judith was wrapped snugly in a blanket on the bed with a couple pillows on either side to keep her wedged in. Rachel scooped the little one up and rocked her, trying to keep her mind from thinking too much about what might be keeping the others. She managed to keep her mind away from that topic for a while, but then Beth joined her and expressed her own concerns.

"Do you think they'll get Maggie and Glenn back?"

"I think they will try their best," Rachel replied honestly, knowing that probably wasn't the answer that Beth wanted to hear. It was the closest thing to the truth because there was no certainty anymore.

"Why do you think they took them?" she asked, learning against the wall.

She hesitated. It was something that she wondered herself and there was only one conclusion she could make. "Honestly – because they are scared. Look at how we're dealing with the people that Carl found. Glenn and Oscar were cautious with Sarah and me when we first arrived. If it weren't for my connection to Daryl, I don't know how y'all would have dealt with us. It's hard to know who is a threat and who isn't."

Beth nodded. "It's awful."

"I know," Rachel agreed.

Trust was a tricky thing to grapple with in this situation. There had certainly been some unsavory characters on her journey, especially at the church that they holed up in for the majority of the winter. Not everyone could keep a level head when survival was on the line and arguments could escalate quickly. It was easy to feel threatened, but at the same time, don't all the remaining survivors have the same concern, the same agenda. What does it say about humanity, to react with such fear of one another in a time of crisis? It is cliché, but there is strength in numbers. If humanity is to win out over this epidemic, a fear of the living will not get them very far. It comes down to trust, but trust has its limitations.

"I pray that they all come back safely," Rachel added with a smile. "I find prayer to be the only way to help a situation that I have no control over. God will do the work."

Beth grinned and took Judith, who was starting to fuss because it was getting to be feeding time. Rachel handed her over with the reminder that the others would work hard to bring Maggie and Glenn back. The conversation with Beth was a good reminder that she was not the only person with a loved one out there on the line, doing what needed to get done to protect the group. The night carried on in a typical fashion with no other surprises.

When morning came, Rachel took the early shift with Axel. It was uneventful, aside from an ever running commentary from the prison inmate. After being relieved by Carol and Carl, Rachel ate breakfast with the four newcomers: Tyreese, Sasha, Allen, and Ben. She made light conversation with them, inquiring about their journey over the last year. They seemed like decent people that could contribute if given the chance. It couldn't hurt to have some extra hands around here. When breakfast was complete, Rachel left them to tend to some chores. She was gathering clothes for washing when there was a shout.

"They're back!"

It sounded like Beth, hollering from the other room. Those who were inside went out to greet the rescue party. The car rolled to a stop just inside the gates. Just visible beyond the car were Rick, Carl, and Carol, walking up the path toward the prison together. Maggie got out of the driver's side, Glenn from the passenger's, and Michonne stepped out of the back. Rachel's heart began to race as her eyes searched through the windshield and all around the car, but there was no sign of anyone else. Daryl was not with them. She took a few steps backward as the others hurried forward to greet those that had returned. There were no words to describe how Rachel felt as she watched them hug other another with obvious relief. She simply stood there, shocked to the point of nausea and overwhelmingly heartbroken.

With all the joy of Maggie and Glenn's return, Rick and the others had made it to the group. He stopped briefly to accept a greeting from Beth, but then pushed forward until he stood in front of Rachel. He looked exhausted and a little deranged, but she had not known him to look any other way. Rick shook his head, searching for words to say. Every pair of eyes was trained on the two of them, waiting to hear about their missing friend.

Rachel sniffed, ready to hear the truth. "Is he dead?"

"No," Rick said, taking a hold of her shoulder and looking her in the eye for the first time. "No, Daryl's not dead."

Nodding, Rachel drew in a deep breath, momentarily satisfied with the news, but still confused by his absence. They look must have been apparent in her expression because Rick continued,

"We found Merle in Woodbury."

Hearing that name was the last thing she expected. Her initial shock was followed by anger, bubbling up inside her at the thought of Merle. Of course he would turn up now, only days after she did, and draw Daryl away yet again. "Where are they?"

"Can't say for sure – we parted ways about mile from the town. Look, I couldn't let Merle come back to the prison. He'd be too much trouble. We all tried to convince Daryl to come back with us, but he wouldn't leave him."

"But he'll leave his wife," Rachel muttered, looking down at her hands; the words escaping her lips before her mind could stop them. She shook her head a little, hating herself for speaking those words out loud to a man she barely knew. She knew some of the others heard it as well.

"Daryl thinks you're safer here with us, for now. He said he'd come for you once they are settled somewhere," Rick explained."You are welcome to stay, you and the girl."

Rachel nodded, afraid of what else would tumble out if she opened her mouth to speak. Rick looked like he wanted to say more but then thought the better of it. He gave her a nod and then turned to talk with Hershel. Rachel didn't move after he turned away; she was numbed by the fact that she had been left behind yet again.

No part of her blamed Rick for not wanting to bring Merle back here; the dynamics within the group seemed a little shaky as it was, and to add the likes of Merle to the mix could turn this place upside down. He was not an easy man to deal with; Rachel knew that from experience, but he was family. That was Daryl's obligation to Merle – family. It was understandable, especially in a time like this when families were ripped apart. But understanding did not help to alleviate the heartbreak. It made no difference that Daryl said he would come back when they were settled; he should have returned with the others.

She turned away from the others and walked back into the cell block. Questions flew at her from Tyreese and the others, but Rachel crossed the room without a word; she didn't have answers for them. She stalked up the steps to the second level, picked up her backpack, and started tossing items inside. Daryl and Merle did not have that much of a head start, and if Rick could give her some direction, maybe she could find them herself. Being out on the road didn't frighten her; she had done it before. It made a whole lot more sense than waiting around here. Rachel was rolling up her blanket when a shadow fell across the doorway, blocking what little light she had. Turning her head, she found Maggie looking down on her.

"What're you doing?" the younger woman asked.

"What's it look like," Rachel replied, casting a glance at her backpack.

"You can't leave," she said firmly.

"And why not?"

"You're the reason he'll come back," Maggie explained. There was desperation in her voice. "We need Daryl here."

Rachel stared at the younger woman and blinked; it felt like she had missed something important. She could tell that Maggie was distressed. Taking a deep breath, she invited the young woman to sit down and then said, "I want to know what happened in Woodbury."

Maggie told her about Merle finding them at the shopping center, and how he gave them no choice but to go with him to Woodbury. She glossed over some of the interrogation, but did not leave out the part about where Glenn's injuries came from. Rachel bit her cheek, trying to remain calm and listen as the story continued.

"Oscar got shot. Glenn and I went over the wall. Rick was right behind us. We expected Daryl to join us with us after a few minutes, but he never did. Neither Michonne nor Glenn was fit to go back in after Daryl; Rick wouldn't leave him behind. The Governor's men had already taken him by the time we got back inside the walls. People were shouting, so we checked it out. Merle and Daryl were in the middle, swinging at each other. Some men brought walkers out to where they were fighting and that's when Rick and I opened fire. It was just enough distraction for them to escape."

It was a lot to process because most of it felt unnecessary. The Governor sounded like a madman, having two brothers exchange blows with walkers thrown in the mix. Rachel was not fool enough to believe that they left Maggie untouched. She could see that something was eating at the young woman from the inside – it was a look that Rachel had once seen in her own reflection – but let it slide for now. Maggie had not engaged those particular details in the story, so Rachel knew that she was not ready to talk about it.

"The Governor wanted to know about the prison," Maggie carried on. Her eyes filled with tears. "I couldn't hold out and I told him. He's going to come after us. What we did to that town – he isn't gonna let it go."

Rachel wrapped an arm around the young woman's shoulders and gave her a squeeze just as Sarah appeared in the doorway. The girl's eyes flitted from the pair of them on the cell floor to the open pack on the bed. She looked furious.

"Are you leaving?"

Maggie's story helped to snap her back into reality and forced her to look at the situation more rationally. It had been reckless to think that she could find them out there. By now they could be anywhere – miles away. The Dixons knew more about living outdoors better than anyone she knew. It was more likely that she would get lost, or killed, trying to find them – that would defeat the whole purpose. As difficult as it would be to remain in the prison, knowing that Daryl was out there, exposed, Rachel knew it was the only chance they had to be together again. He would come for her. She would wait.


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel was angry – hurt, angry, and a little scared. A while after coming to grips with the decision to stay at the prison, things began to unravel. Something snapped inside of Rick when he talked with Tyreese and his group. He started screaming, first at no one and then at Tyreese, shouting at them to get out. He was just deranged enough to scare them off; they clearly did not want any trouble. It was a shame too, Rachel thought, because they were willing to help defend the prison against outsiders. And the way that Glenn and Maggie talked, Rachel half expected the whole of Woodbury to come bursting through the door at any moment. It sounded like The Governor did not take kindly to what happened in the town.

There was a lot of conversation going on about whether or not to make a move on Woodbury, defend the prison, or take a chance out on the road again. A few, like Glenn, thought that sneaking back into Woodbury and killing The Governor was their best bet, but none of them were skilled enough or healthy enough to attempt that strategy. Making a run for it seemed the least likely of their options; they had a baby to care for, a one legged old man, and people unfit for travel. Most seemed to think that making a stand at the prison was their best option; after all they weren't soldiers, but they could defend their home. They could fortify and strengthen their chance for survival. They had some weapons, but certainly not enough to get them very far into any sort of battle. Rachel only wished that Daryl was here with them – with her; it would make everything a little more bearable.

A single shot fired; it sounded close. Rachel's eyes popped open and her heart pounded in her chest. It might not be anything to worry about, maybe a walker got too close. But would someone really risk the noise for a single walker? The pause was just long enough to fool her into thinking that was all it had been, but soon her ears were riddled with the sound of gunfire. She scrambled from the bunk and out of the cell. Maggie emerged from her cell seconds after she did.

"Get the guns," Maggie ordered, blowing by her. Rachel followed her to where they kept the semi-automatic weapons that they had found in the prison armory.

Grabbing a couple of the bigger guns and some extra ammunition, the two women ran for the exit. It was chaos in the prison yard. Maggie ran toward Beth and Carl who were pressed up against the backside of the guard tower. Carol was on the ground, cowering behind what looked like Axel. Bullets ricocheted everywhere. Rachel didn't see Hershel or Sarah anywhere in the yard, so she ran toward the cars, hoping to get a look.

She ducked behind the car just as another wave of bullets cascading in their direction. Peering around the edge, Rachel could see the vehicle that was parked outside the gate where some of the shots originated. Another round rang out, this time dangerously close to her location. Taking another peek, she aimed and returned the favor. She didn't turn back quick enough and something hot burned into her arm. Crying out, she pressed her back against the car and looked down at the damaged flesh. Her forearm glistened red with fresh blood. As she took a moment to catch her breath, trying hard to ignore the pain, the gunfire ceased, but there was another sound to take its place. The engine was loud and it was moving fast in their direction. Rachel poked her head out around the car to get a look at what was coming next.

Nothing could prepare her for what came. A bread truck hurtled down the road and straight through the outer gates, leaving a wide gap in the fence. The trucked stopped in the middle of the yard. Time stood still in that moment as she watched and wondered its significance. The hatch fell down in the back and walkers began to stumble out.

What kind of sick game do these people think this is, Rachel couldn't help but wonder. They were all survivors of this walker uprising. Why were they fighting each other when they should be working together to rebuild a life?

She didn't have much time to think anything else because more shots were fired from both sides. Fighting through the pain that rippled up her arm as she squeezed the trigger, Rachel gritted her teeth and shot back. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Hershel stand up across the yard. Repositioning, she took aim at the walkers in the yard, trying to put down at many as she could without hitting the old man or Michonne, who was knocking off walkers as fast as she could twirl that sword of hers.

The war came to end as the intruders' vehicle pulled away. Glenn drove in and scooped up Hershel and Michonne from the middle of the walker infestation. He brought them back through the only secure gate that they had remaining. Rachel shouldered her gun and stood, putting pressure on her throbbing arm. Breathing heavily from all the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins, she paused for a moment to catch her breath and scanned the area. The others were gathered around the truck, checking over one another to see if anyone was injured. Rachel was just about to join them when she heard a cry of agony. She turned toward the sound, taking notice of what she hadn't before – Sarah.

The teenager was lying on the ground behind one of the cars, the top of her head just visible behind the back tire. Rachel sprinted over and fell to her knees beside the girl. Blood was pooled on the young girl's stomach and shoulder where Sarah had been hit. Wide, tearful eyes, filled with pain and fear looked up at Rachel. Ripping off her own t-shirt, Rachel put pressure on the stomach wound and screamed for Hershel. Sarah cried out again, writhing with discomfort.

"You're gonna be okay," Rachel told her as blood began to bubble from Sarah's mouth. "Shit..."

Instantly Rachel knew that she had just lied to the girl. They were not equipped with the medical supplies needed to save her life. Tears filled her own eyes as she realized the inevitable and she cursed again, looking up to make sure Hershel was on his way.

When he neared, Hershel lowered himself to the ground to have a proper look at Sarah. His expression was grim as his eyes scanned her body.

"What do you need?" Beth offered. "I'll go get it."

"It won't do any good," Hershel replied, shaking his head slowly. "I can't treat this kind of wound. I'm sorry."

Rachel nodded, wiping at the tears that dripped down her cheeks and smearing blood on her face. Hearing the words from Hershel struck harder than thinking them herself. She locked eyes with her young companion; the look that met her was unbearable. Rachel suppressed the urge to vomit and took the girl's hand. Even through all her pain and obvious terror, Sarah managed a small smile at the comforting gesture, but then started coughing. More blood ran from her mouth and she groaned.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Rachel spluttered. No other words came to her as she looked down at her young friend, wishing that there was more she could do for the girl. "God, I am so sorry."

A gun cocked near her ear. Carl stood next to her, ready to take the shot. He looked down at Rachel, waiting to see if he was needed. Her heart pounded against her chest because she knew the decision that had to be made. She looked Sarah in the eye one last time, apologized for this necessary evil, and then gave Carl the go-ahead. The shot rang out and Rachel felt Sarah's hand go limp. Rachel sat back and buried her face in her hands, her whole body shaking with grief.

When the others tried to console her, she pushed them away, wanting to be alone. Hershel directed the others to leave, but stayed to have a look at her injury. She insisted that it was fine even though it throbbed something awful. Hershel agreed that it wasn't life threatening. The bullet had torn through some muscle just above her elbow. She would need a few stitches to ensure it healed properly. The stitches could wait. Rachel asked him to leave her; she wanted to sit with Sarah for a while.

After Hershel left, Rachel pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest, burying her face in her blood stained arms. Two deaths in three days; after surviving together for a year, Sarah and Jesse were gone in the blink of an eye – casualties of this new way of life. Walkers aren't the only threat anymore. Sarah's death was unnecessary; this entire mess between the prison and Woodbury was unnecessary. Life was a precious thing in such a world, easily taken by the mostly unlikely creatures. Why did the living have to turn against one another? Rachel was having a hard time wrapping her mind around it. How could anyone expect to survive like this?

She was thrust back to reality by shouting voices. A few shots from someone's gun rang out. Rachel's blood turned icy as she feared the worst; that those people had come back to finish the job. Sniffing as she wiped her damp face against her good arm, Rachel reached for her gun. Slowly standing, she peered over the back of the car's trunk and scanned the fence line. Three people were making their way along the outer fence, taking down walkers in their path. Raising her gun to eye level, Rachel looked through the scope and exhaled with some relief. It was Rick, and he was accompanied by Daryl and Merle, fighting their way back inside the gates. There were more rounds being shot off and walkers up ahead of them fell.

Conflicting emotions swelled inside her as she moved toward the fence to watch their progress. The relief was short lived as she wrestled with each emotion that had pulled at her during Daryl's absence. Resentment eventually rose above the others. Rachel tried desperately to keep these feelings at bay, to understand that despite all his shortcomings, Merle was Daryl's brother, but her heart still felt broken, abandoned. She could not look away as the three men entered the prison yard. Walkers closed in on them, sensing the presence of fresh meat. Gunfire filled the air and walkers fell, creating an opening for the men to run. The gate was slid open to let them inside and then quickly pulled shut.

While Rachel observed the warm welcomes exchanged with Daryl, Rick, and the others, a walker crept up to the fence where she stood and growl in her ear. Wielding her knife without missing a beat, Rachel stuck the blade between the chain link and straight through the bridge of its nose. The walker crumpled to the ground when she wrenched the knife from its skull. Stepping backward a few paces, she gripped the handle tightly at her side and waited for other walkers to come close enough to stab. She winced as her other arm throbbed with pain. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Daryl's approach.

He moved around the car and slowed down at the sight that met him. Sarah's body was lifeless in a pool of blood and brain matter. He cast a long somber look at the young girl before turning that steely gaze on his wife, taking note of the knife in her hand and the accumulation of blood on her clothes, arms, and face. Her eyes were fixed on him with a doleful intensity that he knew had little to do with the dead girl. He took a few steps closer and reached out slowly for her weapon. Daryl wrapped his fingers around hers and eased the knife from her grip and tossed it on the ground. As she pulled her hand from his, he eyed the seeping gash on her forearm. Rage flared up inside him.

Daryl took a hold of her arm to get a better look at the wound. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," she grumbled and pulled out of his grip.

"It don't look fine."

Rachel's eyes shifted to where Sarah laid. Her voice cracked as the words tumbled out. "I'll live."

Daryl's expression turned dark as his eyes followed hers. His thoughts turned to The Governor, the madman who was at the heart of all this devastation. Merle's prediction had been accurate; Woodbury had made a move on the prison. Anger and hate tore at him in those long, heart-stopping minutes of gunfire that he and Merle could hear as they ran toward the prison. Daryl feared the worst, expecting to find all the people that he cared about slaughtered in their attempt to defend themselves. It was a relief to come across Rick and see signs of life from inside the fence, but when Rachel wasn't among the greeting party at their return, Daryl had a moment of panic.

He could handle their current state of hell: struggling to survive and strategizing for battle against an unlikely evil, both dead and living. Living with the knowledge that he had abandoned Rachel in such an unpredictable world and that she died in his absence was a hell that he could never survive. Thankfully, Rachel was still among the living, and selfishly, though others had lost their lives, Daryl was relieved to find her relatively well.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. This shouldn't have happened."

Closing her eyes, tears leaked down her cheeks. Rachel wanted to resist as she felt Daryl's arms slide around her shoulders and embrace her tightly, but instead she leaned against him with her face buried in his shirt. She was upset with him, but not so much that she would push away his gesture of comfort.

"Why'd you come back?" she asked after letting him hold her for a moment.

"I don't belong nowhere else," Daryl admitted. His tone changed to one that almost pleaded for understanding. "I couldn't just leave Merle out there on his own. He's my brother, Rae; I couldn't leave him."

"And I'm your wife," Rachel replied, pulling away from him. His expression fell slightly. She drew in a deep breath as past frustrations worked their way out; frustrations that fueled her anger over the last couple of days. "Sometimes I think you forget that when Merle is around. He turns up and you do whatever he asks."

Daryl's expression hardened. He geared up to protest, but she continued,

"It's always been that way and I quickly learned to accept it. You always came back to me – usually because Merle pissed you off or left again, but you'd come back. It's all I needed back then."

"Rick didn't want Merle here," he replied with some frustration. "I needed you to stay safe while I dealt with him. I thought you'd understand that."

"I do, but understanding doesn't make it hurt any less. What if you'd died out there, Daryl? I can't live in a state of uncertainty again. I do not want to be left wondering if you're alive or not." Rachel shook her head, exasperated. "I can't do it again."

"I ain't gonna leave you. We're in this together – as long as we both shall live, right?

Rachel smiled sadly and nodded, because she knew that with his particular skill set and the role he played in this group, it was only a matter of time before something took him away again.


End file.
